


hit me like a ray of sun

by icarusandtheson



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Single Parent!Alex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22620466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusandtheson/pseuds/icarusandtheson
Summary: Alex is called into work despite his son feeling under the weather. Luckily, Washington is here to help.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & George Washington, Alexander Hamilton & Original Child Character(s), Alexander Hamilton/George Washington, George Washington & Original Child Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 101





	hit me like a ray of sun

**Author's Note:**

> for everyone on tumblr, who have been waiting for this au for a while. do i have an explanation for why alex and george's kid has the same name in every universe? absolutely not. is that stopping me? absolutely not. for those not caught up from tumblr: alex has through some complicated, unforeseen series of events adopted a child. it's a mess, he's a mess, but he's trying.

The office is unnervingly quiet when Alex walks in, and it sets him immediately on edge. Lafayette is at his desk, focused on his laptop -- alone. Alex isn’t sure if he makes some kind of sound, or if his spike of terror manages to be audible all on its own, because Lafayette looks up at him, infinite patience on his face. 

“Don’t panic, he’s fine.” 

“Where the fuck is my kid, Gilbert?” 

Lafayette nods towards Washington’s office, and when Alex stares at him in abject incomprehension, he says, “He wanted Washington.”

Alex blinks at him, trying to sort those words into a sentence that makes sense. “He wanted Washington.”

Lafayette nods, as if he hasn’t ushered Alex into the fucking  _ Twilight Zone  _ in the space of three words. “They played for a little while when Washington came out of his office, and Lawrence was very sad when I tried to take him back.” 

Alex winces. “He cried?” 

Lafayette snorts. “He didn’t have to. He just looked at Washington with those big eyes and reached for him and suddenly I had a free afternoon.”

“He’s not a fucking  _ babysitter,”  _ Alex hisses. 

“He offered!”

“I left Lawrence with  _ you.” _

“Again, your  _ sick child  _ was happy with him, was I supposed to make Lawrence more miserable by dragging him away?”

Alex scowls.

“Have some sympathy, I’m still recovering from the fact that I’m below him on Lawrence’s list of favorite people.” Lafayette pauses and tilts his head, thoughtful. Alex already knows he doesn’t want to hear whatever comes next. “Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. He must take after his father, no?”

Alex doesn’t bother to dignify that with a response, turning on his heel and heading to Washington’s office to figure out whether or not he still has a job after this. 

He doesn’t have to look particularly hard. Washington is waiting for him, leaning against his door frame with a little less of his usual polish: suit jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up -- and Alex’s kid drooling on his shoulder, completely out. 

Alex stops short. His hands feel suddenly, incredibly empty, and they curl and uncurl at his sides.

“I thought I heard your voice,” Washington says, keeping his low. “I hope everything went well at the meeting?”

“Yeah, I have… I have notes for you. Is he --”

“He’s just fine,” Washington promises. “No sign of fever as far as I can tell.”

Relief rushes in, and Alex takes his first easy breath in hours. “Okay,” he says. Trying to convince himself that it’s true, maybe. Washington said  _ “He’s just fine”  _ in that tone that brooks no argument even gentled, so maybe he can actually believe it. “Thank you, for...” He gestures at his son, clinging in his sleep with a tiny hand curled to a first around Washington’s shirt collar, at best wrinkling it and at worst smudging it with the remnants of his afternoon snack. Alex is -- mortified, is probably the right word, but he’s too tired and too relieved to even feel it properly right now. “You didn’t have to take him, he would’ve been fine with Lafayette.”

Washington’s mouth curls up at the corner, his gaze dropping to where Lawrence has his face smashed against his shirt. “It wasn’t any trouble,” he says. “He’s an angel.” 

And it’s not that Alex  _ disagrees  _ \-- he can’t be sure he wouldn’t go for the throat of anyone who  _ did --  _ but Washington says it like it’s more than enough explanation for putting his work day on hold for a kid he has no responsibility for and Alex isn’t equipped for that, especially not now. He’s even less equipped for the look on Washington’s face, all easy warmth and tenderness when Lawrence shifts a little in his sleep. 

Washington glances up, brow furrowing at whatever he finds in Alex’s expression. "I hope I didn’t overstep." 

“It’s fine,” Alex says -- and it is, mostly. Washington is infinitely more capable than anyone Alex could have left his son with. Infinitely more capable than  _ he _ is, which is why Alex is trying to squash the urge to snatch Lawrence back, to prove he can do this just as well. It’s a stupid thought to have, pointless and overly competitive and  _ there, _ no matter what he does. “Has he been sleeping long?”

“Deeply for about half an hour -- before that he fussed a little, I think he was missing you.” 

Alex nods. He fixes his gaze on some far-off point out the window and tries not to picture it. 

“Gilbert said he was awake all night.”

Alex’s eyes snap back to him. “Yeah,” he says, immediately on edge -- waiting for the judgement, because Washington helped raise two perfect, well-adjusted kids to adulthood and he’s bound to have something to say about whatever the hell it is Alex is doing. 

“I’m sorry you had to come in.”

Alex blinks at him, caught off guard. “It’s my job.”

“I know. I also know that it’s the hardest thing in the world to hand over your baby to someone else when they’re sick and scared and needing you.” 

Alex‘s eyes skip to the side. “If it was bad, or if Lafayette wasn’t able to take him, I would have stayed with him,” he says -- a warning, maybe a challenge. 

“You made it very clear from the moment he came into your life what your priorities were,” Washington says, and Alex wonders distantly if that’s the same tone he’s been using on Lawrence, pitched low and soothing. No mention of everything he did to make sure Lawrence  _ stayed _ in Alex’s life, names of lawyers and friends in convenient places, countless other smaller concessions that Alex would have bristled at back when his pride was his biggest priority. It’s a relief: Alex chokes on that much gratitude even on the best days, and today isn’t one of them. “We would have figured something out for today, if needed.” 

Alex nods, a short sharp jerk of his head. Lawrence makes a small sleep-noise, and both of them shift their attention to him. Washington rubs a slow circle against his back, makes a soft sound at the back of his throat. It’s -- awful, actually. It’s the most acutely awful thing Alex has had to witness in recent memory. 

Washington glances up, and some of that godawful ache must be visible on Alex’s face, because he asks, “Do you want to take him?” Alex doesn’t answer, doesn’t trust himself to. “I’m more than happy to hold him until he wakes up, but if you’d feel more comfortable having him with you...” 

“He can stay,” Alex says, and scowls at the skeptical slant of Washington’s brow. “It’s fine,” Alex says, and he works to keep the bite out of it. “He needs the rest. I’ll -- catch up on work, or something. I’m behind.” All of those things are true, but also true -- also overwhelmingly, suffocatingly true is the fact that he wants his son in his arms. So far, though, fatherhood has been an endless education in how little his  _ wants  _ actually matter in practice. 

Lawrence is safe, sleeping for the first time in over twenty-four hours, and Alex is grateful. Washington’s hand splayed wide across Lawrence’s back, holding him secure in the space he made for him without hesitation -- if the ease of it rankles, if it makes Alex hyper-aware of precisely how much he falls short, he can grit his teeth and handle it for the duration of one nap. 

Washington nods. “You can set up in here, if you’d like to stay close.”

“Are you sure?” Alex asks, a reflex he regrets immediately because he doesn’t actually know what he’ll do if Washington’s sincerity doesn’t hold up, if he changes his mind.

“You won’t get a thing done if he’s out of your line of sight,” Washington says. Alex glances at the photo on Washington’s desk, Martha Custis and her kids, and back again. Washigton’s mouth curls again, a little rueful now. “Pull up a chair.”

So Alex does. He’s trying to take kindness at face value these days -- Washington’s is harder to take than most, but that’s not on him. That’s not on anyone but Alex. 

For a while they work in silence aside from Lawrence’s occasional snuffling. Washington manages his limited range of movement with the kind of practiced ease born from years of experience; he doesn’t jostle the kid once. Alex is a little envious, a little in awe, a little grateful -- nothing new, there. 

He tries not to think about how perfect a picture they make together, or how in this light, they almost look -- 

The point is, Alex needs to keep his hands busy before he snatches his kid back and runs for it. He keeps one eye on the clock and one eye on his kid and does his best not to look at Washington at all. 

Lawrence is the best thing in his life, so much more than he deserves, and he proves it by stirring against Washington’s shoulder and blinking his eyes open before Alex loses what’s left of his sanity. 

“Hey there,” Washington says. He smiles, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Did you have a good nap, sweetheart?” He adjusts Lawrence in his arms so he’s facing forward. “Look who’s back, huh? Is that Daddy?”

Lawrence blinks at him for a moment, bleary-eyed, still clinging to Washington’s collar. Alex’s stomach drops out for a single, irrational second -- Lawrence loves him, he  _ knows  _ Lawrence loves him, one nap in Washington’s arms won’t change that. After a moment, Lawrence reaches out, grabbing at the air between them. Alex swallows against the lump in his throat and comes around Washington’s desk to gather Lawrence up in his arms. 

“There you go,” Washington says, in that same calm, warm voice, and Alex isn’t sure which one of them he thinks needs the soothing. 

Alex presses his face into Lawrence’s curls, breathes him in. God, he’s so fucked. This kid’s ruined him for life. Lawrence smells a little like Washington’s cologne, which is what it is. Survivable, secondary to the relief of having his son back where he belongs. 

Alex pulls back reluctantly -- Lawrence tolerates being cuddled within an inch of his life with more patience than he has any right to, and Alex would stay like this all day if he could -- and strokes a thumb across one round, sleep-warm cheek. “Hey,” he says. “I missed you.” 

Big brown eyes peer up at him, curious and clear, one warm little hand pressed against Alex’s neck and tangling in the loose hairs at the base of his skull. 

Alex snorts. “Yeah, yeah. I got you.” He reaches up with his free hand and pulls his hair free of its tie. The tug is predictable and immediate.  _ “Ow,”  _ Alex says, more for the principle of the thing than out of any real pain -- more for the muffled little giggle it earns him than anything. He tries to get a handle on the stupid, goofy smile he can feel blooming across his face, fails. 

A quiet huff of a laugh, and Alex remembers they’re not alone. He glances up, more sharp than he needs to, but Washington’s expression hasn’t changed -- warmth still lining his eyes and mouth, distracting. 

“Be grateful you don’t have any,” Alex mutters, tilting his head obligingly so his kid can pet him like a dog. 

“I did my time,” Washington says drily. “Patsy liked hair, too.” He winces good-naturedly. “And ties.” Alex gets the sudden, vivid image of Washington, twenty-something and painfully new to this, gently fending off a tiny Patsy Custis on his way to work. Acutely awful, but survivable, if he gets away from it quickly enough. 

They need to go. They’ve probably already overstayed their welcome, and he needs to get Lawrence home so he can rest properly. He needs to collect himself somewhere that isn’t Washington’s office with its wide windows and rolled-up sleeves exposing too much forearm for Alex’s health. 

Washington’s eyes are impossibly soft in the afternoon light. He offers his hand, palm facing up. “How about we give your dad’s hair a break, huh?” 

Lawrence blinks up at him and, because Alex’s philosophy of  _ not enough give me more  _ is apparently contagious, wraps his free hand around Washington’s much larger fingers, tugging. Washington laughs then, really laughs, and Lawrence perks up at the sound. Maybe Lafayette has a point, maybe that’s catching too. 

In a minute, they’re going to leave and Alex is going to have to think about it. In a minute, but not just yet. 

**Author's Note:**

> *thanks for reading! leave a kudos and comment if you liked it!  
> *find me on tumblr at [icarusandtheson](https://icarusandtheson.tumblr.com/)


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